


darling, darling stand by me

by owilde



Category: Avengers - Infinity War - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, Grief/Mourning, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Romance, Spoilers, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, i wanna cry so there's that tea, remembering the past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 17:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14454210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owilde/pseuds/owilde
Summary: “Steve,” Natasha’s voice says somewhere to his right. It sounds distant. “Steve, how…” She doesn’t finish the question. It’s redundant, anyway. How is he? He’s not. Simple as that. There’s no Steve Rogers without Bucky Barnes.Or, how Steve remembers Bucky.





	darling, darling stand by me

**Author's Note:**

> i saw infinity war for the second time and Something Broke and so i wrote a thing
> 
> title taken from Ben E. King's "Stand By Me", alternative title was "I'll run to tenderly hold you, but darling you won't be there" from Jason Donovan's "Sealed With a Kiss" because aaaAAAAAA

They sit on the ground, scattered among the ashes; all that remains of the people gone, vanished in the blink of an eye. It feels like an eternity ago, already, but it’s only been mere minutes, no less than ten.

Steve feels the tainted dirt between his fingers, and digs into it, trying to hold on. To something. To Bucky.

His chest feels tight, like a wound-up spring. He’s not sure he knows how to breathe anymore, like maybe the skill slipped from his mind along with everything else, everything else except the memory of Bucky’s voice, calling for him, and him collapsing into the ground like he never existed at all.

It’s too much for Steve, who already spent years trying to reconcile with the fact that James Buchanan Barnes was gone forever, even when Steve came back. Had it not been for the records of his life, the pictures Steve spent hours looking at, he might’ve convinced himself that maybe Bucky was never real after all.

But he was real. So real and so familiar, and so broken. And he came back. For Steve.

Well. He came back to kill Steve. And Steve brought him back, _really_ back, because Steve would’ve gone through heaven and hell and fought with God himself to have his Bucky back, in his life, by his side. He didn’t even have to do that. Bucky remembered. Lord knows he’d forgotten everything else, but he remembered Steve.

Has it truly only been hours since their last reunion? Hours since he held Bucky in his arms – Bucky who’d been smiling despite the odds, Bucky with his new arm and mended mind and the easy energy. Bucky who snapped back into Steve’s life like a worn puzzle piece, like he belonged there no matter which way you tried to slot the piece.

Attached by the hip, Sarah had joked, back in the forties. Inseparable. _You two oughta have a double wedding, should that day ever be blessed to arrive,_ she’d said, smiling. _Couldn’t imagine holding separate ceremonies._

All the while Steve had dreamt of marrying Bucky. Hidden beneath his blankets, coughing his lungs up, dying all the time but never really going anywhere – and the thing that had kept him going had been Bucky. Who brought him his medicine, worked all day long to afford it, who sat by his bedside and sometimes, if Steve was especially lucky, held his hand like it was the only thing reminding him that Steve was still alive.

 _I’m afraid I’ll stop hear your breathing_ , he’d told Steve. _Stevie, you gotta get it through your thick damn skull – there ain’t no way in hell I’m living without you. Got that, punk? No way in goddamn hell. So you gotta keep breathing, for me, because where you end, I end. And I wanna see the end of the line with you, but not before we’re both grey and old and bickering like some damn dames on a bingo night._

Steve blinks, swallows the emotions building up in his throat. He digs his fingers further into the dirt, picks up a handful and lifts it in front of him. His eyes stare at the ashes scattered there, and it pains him to the goddamn pit of his heart that he doesn’t know anymore whether it’s Bucky he’s holding, or someone else.

 _Don’t fuckin’ weep over some old fool_ , Bucky laughs in his head. _I’ll walk this off, it’s no problem_.

That was during the war, he recalls. Bucky had taken a hit to the leg, had been bedridden for days. Steve had never really left his side, though people kept telling him to take a fucking walk and let the man get some damn rest.

But Bucky had looked him in the eye, the side of his mouth dragging into that smirk that made Steve’s heart flip and twist and ache, and he’d said, _I don’t sleep well without you here_.

So, Steve had stayed. Of course, he’d stayed. He would’ve done anything Bucky would’ve asked for, and more. Because that’s how they were. Some fools blinded by love they hadn’t even dared to mention aloud to each other.

“Steve,” Natasha’s voice says somewhere to his right. It sounds distant. “Steve, how…” She doesn’t finish the question. It’s redundant, anyway. How is he? He’s not. Simple as that. There’s no Steve Rogers without Bucky Barnes.

Another memory slips in, unbidden. It’s before everything went to hell, before Bucky fell off the train and before Steve went to ice, but it’s also after they – or, Steve – gets him back, rescues him.

 _Like I’m some damsel in distress_ , Bucky had grumbled, staring into the fire. It had been just the two of them, keeping watch but doing a poor job of it – or Steve had, at least, because he’d been too busy keeping his eyes on Bucky.

 _You’re no damsel, that’s for sure_ , Steve had told him.

Bucky had laughed, which was a rare sight to behold and always made Steve’s week. Bucky changed after they got him back. Not too much, and not too drastically, but Steve noticed. Steve noticed everything about him. It was in the way his smiles fell flat, his laughter rang empty, his shots became brutal and his aim deadlier than ever. He was out for blood, which was all well and good in war, but it worried Steve nonetheless, because he had never meant for any of this to happen, but it had regardless, and somehow, it felt like his fault.

Bucky became the Winter Soldier long before he came back from the dead. It was just that before, he’d still been Bucky most of the time.

 _Why’d you come back for me, anyhow?_ Bucky asked. He hadn’t been looking at Steve; he’d been worrying his lip and rolling a cigarette, his face lit up by the warm flames. _I’m just some poor fucker who got caught in some shit. Ain’t no reason for you to get yourself killed over_.

Steve had, at first, been too shocked to answer. He’d blinked at Bucky, wondering if maybe he was joking, if this was one of his bits – but he didn’t do those anymore, and anyhow, he sounded dead serious to Steve.

 _Ain’t no reason—Bucks,_ Steve had breathed out. _Bucky, you don’t have any goddamn clue, do you?_

 _‘Bout what_ , Bucky had asked, and finally looked up at Steve. But his gaze was broken, tired. Weary. _I bet there’s a lotta thing I don’t have a damn clue about, you gotta be more specific than that—_

Steve had stood up, abruptly, his half-finished cup of whiskey scattering to the ground. It spilled on the dirt, and it was expensive as all hell and impossible to get one’s hand on most of the time, but Steve didn’t care a single bit. He’d walked over to Bucky, crouched in front of him.

 _Buck_ , he’d said. Fuelled perhaps by the night air or the whiskey, or the emptiness in Bucky’s eyes, he’d taken his hands in his. Bucky’s were cold and calloused, stiff from firing so many shots. Tainted, still, in old blood. _Bucky, how can you be so fucking stupid?_

Bucky had snorted. _What is it I’m stupid about this time?_

It had definitely been the whiskey, because it was the only explanation Steve could think of later that gave a reason for what came out of his mouth. _Why would I come back for you?_ He’d asked. _You’ve gotta be a damn fool to not see that I came back for you, always have and always will if God be willing, because I’m so in love with you that it’s breaking my heart every single day._

Bucky had blinked back at him, a small frown between his brows. Absently, he’d turned his hands, his fingers sliding across Steve’s wrists. _Stevie_ , he’d said. Steve remembered how small his voice had been, how unlike his usual self. _Stevie, what in the goddamn hell—if this is some prank you’re pulling on me, you better tell me this fuckin’ second—_

 _It’s no joke_ , Steve had said. _I love you, Bucks. You gotta know that. And I know that you don’t feel the same, and it’s alright – I want you to know, it’s alright, because at least I got to tell you. At least we both lived long enough for me to tell you that._

Before he’d finished talking, Bucky had leaned closer and pressed his lips against Steve’s, and at that moment a bomb could’ve gone off not a hundred feet away from them and Steve wouldn’t have pulled away.

Bucky had tasted like ash and whiskey, but he was a damn good kisser – because of all the practice, Steve had joked later – and it was _Bucky_ , and he was kissing Steve who’s heart was beating like a drum against his ribcage, which felt fragile enough to break.

 _Steve,_ Bucky had breathed against his lips. _How long?_

 _Too long_ , Steve had said automatically. _Since we were teens, I think. Probably long before that, even._

 _Steve, you goddamn fucking idiot_ , Bucky had said, and leaned his forehead against Steve’s. _All this fucking time we could’ve been doing something better than dancing around this. Why is it you gotta pick the worst fucking timing, hm? Why is it that we’ve been in love for years, and you tell me when we’re in the middle of a war and could die any goddamn day?_

All Steve had been capable of doing had been a smile. _I don’t know,_ he’d said. _That’s just how we are._

That was just how they’d been. How they weren’t anymore.

Steve still feels Bucky’s touch on the back of his neck, feels his breath on his lips from back in the forties and sooner than that, from less than hours ago.

He lets the dirt slip through his fingers. It's picked up by a gust of wind. Everything is mingling together. Steve doesn't know where Bucky is anymore.

His legs are shaking so bad he thinks they might give up underneath him, but Steve stands up nonetheless. Everyone’s eyes slowly turn towards him, expecting something from him, something Steve can't give.

“We’re getting them back,” he says, and to his surprise, his voice isn’t trembling. “Alright? We are getting them back no matter what. We’ll find a way. There’s always a way.”

“Steve—” Natasha starts, then stops. Her shoulders sag. “You’re right,” she says, maybe not wanting to curb his will, maybe wanting to soften the blow she'd normally deliver. “There’s always a way.”

Steve doesn't have a single clue on where to start, but he’ll figure it out. He’ll fight Thanos himself, beat him to a pulp until he snaps his fingers again and things will be back to normal, and Steve can hold Bucky in his arms again and whisper in his ear, feel the weight of his metal arm around his waist.

“We all lost something,” he says aloud. “Someone. Someone irreplaceable. But we’ll get them back, I swear. There’s no version of this where we don’t find a way to get them back.”

Thor looks him in the eye, and there’s an air of understanding, of loss so profound that it cuts through the skin and nestles somewhere deep in the bone. “Aye,” he says. “We’ll get them back.”

Steve sits back down, unsure if he’ll ever get back up again.

But he will. He has to.

Because Bucky needs him, Bucky who’s always been there for Steve, has gone through hell for Steve, has killed and burned and been killed, over and over and over, all for Steve—

So if there’s a single chance, a single way for Steve to now do something for him, to get Bucky back, he’ll find it and he’ll take it.

Steve will get up, and Steve will mourn and cry and feel angry and lost and broken, but it won’t last forever.

He’s with Bucky till the end of the line. Till they’re grey and old, even if that’s not possible anymore.

He’ll get him back.

He has to.

 _I love you so much it hurts_ , Bucky mumbles in his mind. _Stevie. My Stevie._

“I love you, too,” Steve says to the ashes. “Forever.”


End file.
